Thursday, October 30, 2014

A number of years ago
before we moved into our current home, we were looking at homes that were for
sale. Hanging in the bedroom of one the homes was a poem entitled “Tell Her
So”. It read:

Amid the cares of
married life, In spite of toil and business strife, If you value your sweet
wife,

Tell her so!

Don't act as if she's
passed her prime, As though to please her were a crime- If e'er you loved her,
now's the time;

Tell her so!

You are hers and hers
alone: Well you know she's all your own; Don't wait to carve it on the stone

Tell her so!

Never let her heart
grow cold; Richer beauties will unfold, She is worth her weight in gold;

Tell her so!

After seeing it I
concluded that either the man of the house had hung it up as a reminder to
himself in which case he probably had a wonderful marriage, or the woman of the
house had hung it up because their marriage needed some serious help!

I once heard a lecturing
Rabbi suggest – somewhat surprisingly – that he felt men should not buy their
wives flowers every Shabbos. He reasoned that doing so makes the flowers become
a trite habit that loses its meaning. A flower with a card that reads “Thanks
for everything” each week, will no longer be appreciated as a special gesture,
but rather as something expected. He felt that flowers should be saved for
special occasions – or emergency situations (at a local florist, one of the
little cards at the counter has a picture of a man coming out of a dog house…).

His point is
unquestionably debatable. However, it is definitely true that when something
becomes ritualized it loses much of its inherent meaning and depth. On the
other hand, a friend of mine related that he buys flowers for his wife almost every
Erev Shabbos, but he includes a card in which he thanks her for something
specific each week.

I once read about a
great man who davened Shemoneh Esrei for an extended period of time three times
each day. When he was asked why it takes him so long, he replied that when he
recites Modim (the thanksgiving prayer) he thinks about the long list of things
for which he is grateful to G-d. He hardly has enough time to say just a few of
them.

Rav Avigdor Miller zt’l
suggests that every person think about one unique thing for which he/she is
thankful for every time Modim is recited.

Our relationship with
G-d is metaphorically compared to a marriage. Although G-d does not need our
thanks, the more we recognize and express our gratitude to Him the more
thankful we will be generally, and the more people will want to be around us.

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Last week on Simchas
Torah I was asked to lain a few ‘rounds’ of Parshas V’zos Haberacha, to help
ensure that every man and boy received an aliyah to the Torah. I was still
laining when my bechor, Shalom, received his aliyah. After he masterfully said
the beracha I began laining the aliyah.

Being that our family
are Leviim, Shalom received the aliyah that begins with the words “Ul’Levi
Amar”. It contains the blessing Moshe Rabbeinu conveyed to his own tribe,
where he blessed the Levites with the priesthood of the nation. Moshe explained
that they were worthy of that blessing because when he rallied the nation to
avenge the honor of G-d after the sin of the golden calf it was his fellow
Levites who heeded his call. Moshe lauded the Levites for ignoring the fact
that they may have been obliged to strike at their own maternal grandfathers or
uncles who had been involved in the egregious sin. The fact that their love of
G-d superseded their natural love for their own flesh and blood made them
worthy of the loftiest responsibility of performing the holy Service in the
Mishkan.

As I read those words
with my bechor standing next to me following along it struck me. I love my son
more than life itself and I hope he feels the same for me. But if I am worthy
to educate him properly, his love for me will not be above all else. His love
for Hashem will be even greater.

The first nationally distributed feature film that included dialogue sequences as
well as music and sound effects produced by Hollywood
was ‘The Jazz Singer’, starring Al Jolson (1927).
The
protagonist of the movie is a Jewish cantor who falls for an Italian gentile
girl. At first he is banned from the Temple.
But the story ends with the protagonist leading the Kol Nidrei services with
his mother and gentile wife looking on from the balcony approvingly.

That message of
Jewish-dominated Hollywood
has not changed in the decades since. Hollywood
espouses that ‘love’ must champion all else. The fact that they have replaced ‘love’
with fleeting romance and cheap uncommitted narcissistic relationships is
largely unrecognized by our society.

The truth is that we agree
that love must champion all else – albeit the love for G-d and His Torah. There
is no greater value that we wish we can inculcate in our children. Life is the
most valuable commodity we have, and every moment of it is precious. But what
makes life valuable? Mesillas Yesharim explains that it is only through living
a proper life in this world that one can enter and merit the bliss of the next
world.

The greatness of life
is measured by how much value one infuses into his life and how one chooses to
utilize the great gift endowed to him. When one possesses love and appreciation
for Torah and its timeless values than his entire life has meaning.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

“I’m not sure yet. We
were thinking about the aquarium, but my big ones aren’t interested. So we were
thinking about ice skating, but my little ones can’t do that. So I think we are
just going to stay home and discuss what we should have done.”

Actually, the Staum
family had a wonderful Chol Hamoed b’h, and enjoyed some nice family outings.
On Monday we visited Argos Farm about a half hour from my in-law’s home in Lakewood.

When we first arrived
the place was packed with people who had come, not for Chol Hamoed, but in
honor of Columbus Day, if you get my drift. Many of them also came to pick out a
mehudar pumpkin for their upcoming holiday. [I saw some that were big enough
even according to the Chazon Ish shiurim.]

No sooner had we
arrived when a misty rain began to steadily fall (it was a figment of our
imagination because the weather report said there was only a 20% chance of
rain). Nevertheless, we enjoyed the damp hay ride and corn maze.

Before we entered the
corn maze the guide handed us a map with numbers for us to follow. We entered
together, and it soon became clear that the numbers had gotten lost in the
maze. There were none to be found. After a few more turns we lost my
father-in-law.

At one point after a
few dead ends one of our children suggested that we turn around and retrace our
steps. I explained to him that we couldn’t go back the way we came because the
whole idea was to find our way to the exit, not to go back where we came from,
which we anyway wouldn’t be able to find

Mesillas Yesharim states
that life is like a maze. There are many twists and turns and we have to stay
true to the proper path without getting lost along the way.

After the September 11th attacks, Rav Moshe
Shapiro shlita noted that he was concerned that people were davening that
things return back to the way they were, to what was familiar and comfortable.

He explained that such a prayer is a big mistake! G-d
guides the world along a specific trajectory and there are no mistakes. He has
a plan and a mission for us. Whenever situations arise – for good or for better
- we must accept that life will no longer be what it was. “Mir darfen zich
tzushtelen tzu ratzon haBorei- We must connect to what G-d wants of us!”

A corn maze is not quite as serious as the maze of life.
But it was a great reminder of the fact that in life we must always proceed and
try to connect with what G-d wants of us, not what we feel is best.

It was a great lesson, even though when we excitedly found
our way back we realized that we were exiting at the entrance. We had come back
to the beginning after all. But hey, why should I let our clumsiness ruin a
perfectly good article?

By the way, in case you were worried, we found my
father-in-law afterwards. He was sitting by the entrance to the farm waiting
for us.

Sunday, October 12, 2014

In a recorded lecture
from Rabbi Ephraim Wachsman (Nissan 2004) he described his experience spending
Shabbos near the grave of the great Rebbe, Rav Elimelech of Lizhensk, together
with over fifteen hundred Jews from all walks of life.

Rabbi Wachsman
recounted that the arrangers of the Shabbos set up four huge tents, with little
cubicles containing heat, new carpeting, fresh beds, and fresh linen. There was
a computer printout which directed everyone to their room. However, when Rabbi
Wachsman arrived on Thursday evening the printout was not yet available, so
they were told to sleep wherever they found place. The next day when the majority
of the crowd arrived, everyone who had already found place had to move to their
newly assigned room. One would expect in such a situation that people would
become annoyed and things could become heated. But unbelievably there wasn’t
one raised voice, or argument.

The Shabbos meals were
hosted in a huge tent. The guests included groups of Jews from many walks of
life, who in a regular setting probably wouldn’t talk to each other. At one
point a Yerushalmi Jew with a booming voice stood up on the table and began
singing “Ashreichem Yisroel”. Almost immediately, the whole tent
exploded in song. It was a moment of ecstasy, and many people had tears in
their eyes as they sang together.

Rabbi Wachsman
continued, “Why was it that way? Did everyone who arrived in Lizhensk suddenly
have the sterling character of Rav Yisroel Salanter?”

He explained that
throughout the year and life generally we are busy with many pursuits that
occupy our time and efforts – our cars, homes, businesses, investments, etc.
Those relentless quests create barriers between him and others. But when he is
removed from it all, he doesn’t have to be taught to love his fellow Jew, it’s already
imbedded in his soul. Generally he isn’t in touch with his true feelings
because there are so many hindrances that get in the way. But take away the
pursuits which subjugate and occupy him, and the true inner self is free to
emerge.

In Lizhensk all they
had was their little cubicles, all the rest of their “stuff” was left at home.
Jews without their extra baggage are free to unite and connect.

On Succos we leave our
homes and supplant ourselves in the spiritual environs of the Succah. Without
all of our “stuff” which interferes with our souls and hearts throughout the
year, we are free to connect with our true selves, and of course with our
Creator.

There is a prevalent
custom to recite the beracha on the Four Species each day of Succos
specifically in the succah. Holding the Four Species together symbolizes the
unity of the Jewish people. Inside the succah where we are freed from the
shackles of our “stuff” and live only under the protection of G-d, we can truly
feel the unity of our people.

Thursday, October 2, 2014

A few weeks ago I was
invited to give a presentation in the Yeshiva Ketana of Waterbury, Connecticut.
While driving on the highway to Waterbury
I noticed the yellow light on my dashboard, which indicated low tire pressure
come on. My mechanic once informed me that those lights are more sensitive than
a grumpy infant so I proceeded without giving it much thought.

When I concluded the
presentation and headed back to my car however, I realized that the warning was
well founded. One of my tires was almost completely flat. I called my
brother-in-law who lives locally and he directed me to a mechanic that was
fairly close. With four working tires the drive to Don’s Garage would have
taken 2 minutes. But because I had to drive so painfully slowly it took me
almost fifteen tense minutes.

The mechanic removed
the tire to get a better look. In under a minute he related to me his grim
prognosis: the tire was a goner. He showed me that a thick nail had lodged
itself in the tire and the tire could not be salvaged. Not only did that tire
have to be replaced, but to maintain balance the opposite tire had to be
replaced.

I pulled out Mr. Visa
and within a few minutes the tires were replaced and I was back on the road
heading home (after stopping to visit my sister and brother-in-law’s new home
of course).

In the waning moments
of Yom Kippur, when we are running on nothing other than spiritual strength, we
emphatically proclaim in unison the timeless mantra of our people: “Shema
Yisroel Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad!”

It is the proclamation
of our complete subjugation to G-d, above all else. Rabbeinu Yonah in Shaarei
Teshuva writes that if one accepts upon himself the yoke of heaven in regards
to all mitzvos except for one, he is considered a ‘poreik ol’ one who
has cast off the yoke of Heaven. Kabbolas Ol Malchus Shamayim, accepting
upon ourselves the Yoke of Heaven, is an all or nothing endeavor.

Perhaps we may falter
and sin, but it’s not because we have not accepted the yoke of heaven upon
ourselves fully. Rather, it’s that we become sidetracked and lose focus on our
mission and priorities.

My tire was virtually
completely intact. There was only one spot which had a massive nail wedged into
it. But that one nail was enough to deflate and destroy the entire tire and
impede my car’s ability to drive properly.

At Sinai we proclaimed
our unyielding acceptance of our mission to be G-d’s Chosen holy people. Every
year on Yom Kippur we renew our dedication to that mission.

Our tires don’t have
any holes, for our dedication is steadfast and unrelenting. It’s that just that
throughout the year our internal yetzer hara adeptly gets us to let some
air out of our tires. On Yom Kippur we refill them, so that we are rearing and
ready to go!